Chapter 926:

No one can think of the enthusiasm that made me feel the first big success like a hurricane. In my opinion, life and death are ideal boundaries. I should first break through these boundaries, and then inject a lot of light into our dark world. A new species will bless me as its creator and source. Many happy and beautiful natures are attributed to me. No father can fully thank his children as I deserve. Pursuing these thoughts, I think that if I can give animation effects to inanimate things, then I may renew life within a period of time although now I find that it is impossible, because death has obviously corrupted the body.
These thoughts support my spirit, and I tirelessly pursue my career. My cheeks became pale due to study, and my people became thin due to confinement. Sometimes, I almost certainly fail; but I still have hopes of realization in two days or the next hour. One of the secrets I have alone is the hope that I dedicate myself to myself. The moon stared at my midnight labor, while at the same time, I breathed without relaxation, longing, and pursuing nature in her hiding place. When I dabble in uninhabited graves with wet people or torturing living animals to give lifeless clay animations, who can think of my secret labor? Now, my limbs are trembling, and my eyes are swimming with memories. But then, a tenacious, almost crazy impulse pushed me forward. Except for this pursuit, I seem to have lost all my soul or feeling. Indeed, it was only short-lived, it just made me feel sharp again, until the unnatural stimulus stopped working, and I resumed my previous habits. I collected bones from charity organizations and disturbed the huge secret of the human frame with profane fingers. In a separate room at the top of the house, or more precisely, in a room separated from all other apartments by a gallery and stairs, I kept the dirty creative studio. My eyes began to pay attention to the details of my work from their eyes. The dissection room and the slaughterhouse provided me with many materials. And my humanity is often transformed by my career aversion, and still being urged by my growing desire,
The summer vacation was over, and I was fully engaged and engrossed at that time. It was the most beautiful season. There has never been a harvest season, or the vines have brought a richer vintage, but my eyes are not sensitive to the charm of nature. The same feeling made me ignore the sights around me, which made me forget those friends who were absent for many miles and I haven't seen each other for a long time. I know that my silence has eliminated their troubles, and I remember what my father said: "I know that when you are satisfied with yourself, you will think of us affectionately, and we will receive letters from you regularly. If I think it’s right Any interruption in your letter can prove that your other duties have also been neglected, so you must forgive me."
Therefore, I know my father's feelings very well, but I can't tear up my thoughts because of work. Although I hate myself, it makes me irresistible. I hope to postpone all things related to my feelings until it has swallowed every habit of my nature.
Then I thought it would be unfair if my father attributed my negligence to my fault or negligence, but now I am convinced that he has reason to think that I should not be completely immune from the blame. A perfect person should always maintain a calm and peaceful state of mind, and never let passion or short-term desires disturb his peace. I think the pursuit of knowledge is not an exception to this rule. If the research you concentrate on tends to weaken emotions and destroy tastes, and these simple pleasures may prevent alloys from mixing, then the research is undoubtedly illegal, that is, it does not conform to human thinking. If you always follow this rule; if no one allows any pursuit to interfere with the peace of their family relationships,
But I forgot that I said morality in the most interesting part of the story, and your appearance reminded me to keep going.
In the letter, my father didn't blame him, he just asked about my occupation more specifically than before, and he noticed my silence. In my work, winter, spring and summer are gone. But I have never seen a scene of open flowers or leaves. My previous sight always brought me great pleasure, so I focused on my career. The leaves of that year withered until my work came to an end, and now every day shows me my success more clearly. But my enthusiasm was suppressed by my anxiety. I looked like a man destined to work in landmines by slavery, or an industry worse than the artist occupied by his favorite work. Every night, I was oppressed by a slow fever and I felt very painful. A fallen leaf shocked me when I avoided my companion, as if I had committed a crime. Sometimes I am shocked by the shipwreck I have become. My goal energy alone allows me to maintain: my work will end soon, and I believe that exercise and entertainment will take away the initial illness. When my creation should be completed, I promised myself these two aspects.
Fives
On a dull night in November, I watched my hard work. Because of anxiety and almost pain, I collected the tools of life around me in order to inject firelight into the inanimate things under my feet. It is already one o'clock in the morning. The rain fell on the windowpane, and the candle was almost burnt. When I was illuminated by the dim light of the half-extinguished light, I saw the dull yellow eye open. It had difficulty breathing, and its twitching movements stirred its limbs.
In the disaster, how should I describe my emotions, or how to describe this weak person with this endless pain and care? His limbs are well proportioned, and I chose his characteristic as beautiful. beautiful! Great God! His yellow skin can barely cover the muscles and arteries underneath. His hair is black and flowing. His teeth were white; but these extravagances formed a more terrifying contrast with his watery eyes, which seemed to be almost the same color as the sandy white sockets inlaid with them, his dry skin tone and straight black lips.
Different accidents in life are not as changeable as human feelings. I have worked hard for nearly two years, the sole purpose of which is to inject life into an inanimate body. For this reason, I deprived myself of rest and health. I look forward to it with a passion that goes far beyond moderation. But now I have done it, the beauty of the dream has disappeared, and the horror and disgust of breathing permeates my heart. Unable to endure the creation, I rushed out of the room and continued for a long time, traversing my bedroom, unable to make up my mind to sleep. Boredom finally caused me to experience the commotion I had experienced before, and then I put on my clothes and lay on the bed, trying to find some moments of forgetfulness. But this was futile; indeed, I slept, but I was disturbed by the craziest dreams. I thought I saw Elizabeth growing up in health, walking on the streets of Ingolstadt. I was very happy and surprised, and hugged her, but when I printed the first kiss on her lips, their color of death turned blue. Her character seemed to have changed, I thought I was holding the dead mother's body in my arms. A shroud enveloped her figure, and I saw worms crawling in the folds of the flannel. I fell asleep from panic. My forehead was cold, my teeth trembled, and my limbs twitched. When the moon passed through the blinds under the dim yellow light, I saw the poor fellow-the poor monster I created. He raised the bed curtain. His eyes, if they can be called their eyes, look at me. He opened his jaw, murmured something, grinned, and wrinkled his cheeks. He might say it, but I didn't hear it. A hand stretched out as if to detain me, but I escaped and rushed downstairs. I took refuge in the yard of the house where I lived. I stayed there for the rest of the night, walking up and down with the greatest excitement, listening intently, capturing and worrying about every sound, as if announcing what was coming sound. The demonic corpse I was brutally killed
Oh! No mortal can support this horror of faces. The mummy that was animated again is no longer like that badass. I stared at him before I was finished. He was ugly at the time, but when these muscles and joints were able to move, it became something that even Dante couldn't think of.
I passed the night miserably. Sometimes my pulse beats so fast, almost absent, that I feel flustered in every artery. In other people, I was almost in trouble because of fatigue and extreme weakness. Mixed with this fear, I feel the pain of disappointment. My dream of good food and rest for a long time has now become my hell. The change is so rapid, the overthrow is so thorough!
In the morning, the deep and damp, long dawn broke, and my sleepless and painful eyes spotted the Ingolstadt Church, its white spire and clock indicating six hours. The porter opened the door of the courthouse that was my shelter that night, and then I walked onto the street, taking quick steps, as if I was trying to avoid the mess that I feared turning in the streets would cause me trouble. view. I dared not go back to the apartment where I lived, but I felt hurried to leave, even though I was soaked by the black and boring sky.
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